I had to look away. When Asha danced over to plant a kiss on my cheek, I plastered a smile on my face and let her rant about her role in my wedding.
But even as I injected enthusiasm into my voice, as I nodded to Asha’s rambling, every time my gaze flickered to Kelara’s, she held that same look of sorrow.
What did she know that I didn’t?
Was I not capable of making my own adult decisions?
My stomach churned, though with what, I didn’t know.
All I knew was that I couldn’t stand it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I avoided Kelara’s wide, pitying eyes all weekend. I took Asha for constant outings, shutting down every prospect of conversation. I was sure my elder sister had plenty of opinions about David and me, but they were just that—opinions—and I wasn’t willing to let her gut feeling hinder me from what I knew was the practical decision. David and I had been together for years, and he’d been my safe place for all of them.
Why wouldn’t I marry him?
And she wasn’t one to talk. I’d seen her step out of the house for a few moments later that night, only to be crouched around the corner in a heated exchange with Felipe. I’d watched through an odd angle of the window as he’d planted a kiss on her cheek, my body tensing at the sight. She’d come in shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and greeting Asha as if nothing had happened.
As much as I wanted to confront her, I knew we both had accusations the other didn’t want to hear. So I kept my mouth shut.
Besides, I was occupied trying to avoid wedding planning. Mama was ecstatic. I’d barely seen her all weekend. Once David had left, she’d spent the next two days with his mother, discussing decorations and dates and dresses. She’d invited me to come, but Itold her I wanted to spend time with Asha after the accident.
The truth, however, was that the idea of being in those chats made bile rise in my throat.
So instead, I bided my time at home with Asha’s sunny presence, and we enjoyed the hustle of afternoon market strolls. Once—just once—I recognized Ella’s blond, bouncing curls by a baker’s stall in the distance, and pulled Asha down another aisle, my heart pounding in my chest. After her words on the stairs, Ella would have to extend the olive branch, not I—I was done hounding her about the truth when she so clearly wanted to live a lie.
To keep myself occupied, I even suggested a visit to Gina’s. Armed with stew, we ignored the sweat soaking through our gowns as heat pressed against every inch of bare skin, and trudged over to the home of Kelara’s childhood best friend.
Lying weak on the bed, she was unrecognizable. With sunken eyes and bones jutting from her skin, the Quiet Passing had moved quicker than usual in the mere two months since it had taken hold of her. The disease had taken advantage of her frailty—it was eating her alive. I couldn’t help the way my eyes darted away from hers as we talked, instead lingering on the faded walls of the room as she and Kelara shared gossip and tired giggles. The room smelled heavily of death, and my mind spun with memories of long ago, of another room smelling of cold sweat and dry petals, of dead leaves and dry air.
The space was dizzying, my stomach churning with the same premonition that made me long to run away, just as it had two years ago. Gina would bid this room farewell soon: of that I was certain.
On the way out, Kelara eyed my paling face.
I gave her a wan smile.
“She doesn’t look very well, but her spirits are much better thanPapa’s,” she said, voice wavering. “I think she might have a chance.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded.
The silence that settled over us was as thick and heavy as the humidity. My body itched with desperation to get back to the palace, to the stack of books waiting on my desk, to the prince who was fighting for answers that were out of reach for the rest of us.
Longing to feel anything but helpless on the other side of the palace wall.
“Again.”
Thomas sat before me cross-legged on the ground. Dark green clover tickled my fingers as I ran my palms over the tiny leaves. I closed my eyes, took a breath, and squeezed my hand into a fist.
I want beauty. I want the beauty that is to come, to come now.
I imagined the seed’s first breath of fresh air.
When I opened my eyes, a sapling poked through the dirt, a mere inch above the grass.
“Well done,” Thomas said, offering me a rare genuine smile.
My insides warmed. “Thanks.”
